But again, the anger in Zyren’s eyes was enough to make Aria feel like she was just a breath away from feeling those shadow-like tendrils he could summon curl around her flesh—ready to snap her neck like a twig.
What made it worse was the slow, widening smile spreading across his face. It didn’t bring relief. It only sharpened the danger in the room—like a storm tightening its grip.
Aria wanted to speak—wanted to apologize. Her lips even parted, trembling slightly as she stared into those blood-red eyes of his. But the words wouldn’t come. The words that might’ve spared her life lodged in her throat, strangled by pride and fear.
Instead, the fury she’d buried surged back to the surface like fire licking at dry wood. And before she could stop herself, she said something entirely different—something reckless and defiant.
"I hate you!" she hissed, eyes blazing. "I hate you touching me, and the last thing I would ever do is willingly lie with you!"
Her voice shook with rage and revulsion. Then her expression twisted into something darker—something near madness. She gave a bitter little laugh, sharp and unhinged.
"You want to drink my blood?" she spat, her smile twitching. "Then KILL me! Go ahead, suck it all up when I’m—"
She never got the chance to finish the word dead.
Her body froze mid-sentence.
Her breath caught in her throat, and her limbs locked in place as she saw him—Zyren—grinning. A slow, wide grin that peeled back to reveal his teeth... and his fangs. Long. Sharp. Predatory.
Her heart pounded so violently she could hear it in her ears, a thunderous drumbeat of fear.
Without thinking, Aria stumbled backward—off the bed, desperate to put space between them. But she had barely risen before her body stiffened again.
This time, completely.
She couldn’t move. Not a single muscle. Not a finger. Not even an eyelid.
Her eyes stayed locked forward, unable to widen in horror as Zyren stood there—calm, smiling, terrifying. And worse, she could see everything.
She watched as he slowly vanished to her left, heard the faint creak of a wardrobe opening, the soft shuffle of him rummaging through it.
But she couldn’t turn her head to look.
Her mind reeled. When had he used his power on her? How had she not noticed? She’d always been able to see it before—those ghostly shadows twisting around his hands.
Just the crushing weight of stillness binding every nerve in her body.
The thought was still churning through her when he suddenly reappeared in front of her—calm as ever, holding something in his hand.
Black. Heavy. Decorated with intricate, glittering gems that shimmered like bloodstones under the candlelight. It looked expensive—royal, even. The kind of thing only a Lord or King could afford.
Zyren raised it slowly, holding it just inches from her frozen face, making sure she saw every curve, every cruel detail. A long, silver chain hung from it—delicate, but clearly enchanted—its links decorated with fine feathers carved from obsidian.
Aria couldn’t frown. Couldn’t cry out. But inside, panic shrieked.
She felt his hand close around her neck.
She felt the collar settle into place—cold, snug, inescapable.
Tears pooled in her eyes—helpless, bitter tears—the only response her body could still muster.
"I guess I’ve been too soft with you," Zyren whispered, the words brushing against her skin like frost.
Her head turned slowly to the side—not by her will. Her muscles obeyed his command now. Her spine tilted, exposing her neck like a puppet being prepared for slaughter.
"If I drink your blood now..." he said softly, almost gently, "I’ll kill you."
His tone was casual. But his eyes—they gleamed with an edge sharp enough to slice skin.
They were fixed on her throat now, unblinking, unmerciful.
"You are forbidden from taking it off. Ever."
Then came the real threat—spoken with the faintest smile.
"Honestly... I actually hope you do."
His voice carried no cruelty. But that made the promise even more terrifying. The unspoken consequences hung in the air like poison.
He stepped back, brushing a lock of her hair aside.
"Tomorrow," he said, as if he were simply issuing a schedule. "When you’re well rested and have taken a bath... you will present yourself to me. Before breakfast. In my room."
He lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her eyes—still tear-bright and frozen—to meet his.
"You will tilt your head to the side... and beg me, as your master, to drink from you."
The words were poison. But the worst came next.
"If not..." he murmured, voice dropping to that sinister, intimate tone he used when playing with his prey, "Little flame..."
The nickname fell from his lips with mock sweetness, but his gaze was deadly serious.
"I will make you beg for death. And it won’t come."
He let go of her chin.
A moment later, Aria’s stiff body was lowered gently—like a marionette—back onto the bed. She couldn’t even flinch as her back hit the sheets, her limbs still paralyzed.
Then she watched—heart trapped in her throat—as Zyren unfastened the buttons of his shirt.
The soft click of each button made her skin crawl.
She wanted to scream. To run. To do something. But she couldn’t.
She watched him peel the shirt away, baring his chest—pale, smooth, deadly. His eyes never left hers.
Tears slid down the sides of her face. She braced for him to climb over her—to violate her in the worst way. To break her entirely. But instead... he tossed the shirt carelessly onto the bed.
Then he reached for his coat.
Draped it over his bare shoulders. Turned and walked away.
He didn’t say another word.
The door slammed shut behind him with finality.
Aria wanted to cry out in relief—but she still couldn’t move. Her breath remained locked in her chest, her body frozen stiff on the mattress.
Did she regret spitting on him? Yes. It would be a lie to say she didn’t.
But would she do it again? Also yes. Even knowing the price.
Her heart had begun to slow. The pounding in her chest less violent now as she waited—silently praying for the paralysis to pass—when the door creaked open again.
Rymora stepped inside.
She paused, glanced at Aria shock visible in her gaze even though she didn’t dare to move closer as she simply looked away moving to sit on the only chair in the room after dragging it in front of the door.
It was clear by her actions that she was clearly following orders. Zyren’s orders.